Sarah vs Normalcy
by NerdsAheard
Summary: Sarah Walker could be many things. But normal? Never. Slight AU beginning with the birth of our favorite blonde spy. Eventual Charah


A/N: This has been rattling around in my head for a couple weeks but I'm finally done with it now (obviously). I hope you enjoy it!

I think you're all fairly intelligent people (or aliens…you never know), but just to make sure there's no confusion, Robert Stafford = Jack Burton and Rachel Stafford = Jenny Burton = Sarah Walker.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck but if I did…oh what larks I would have!

* * *

March 7, 1981

Ann Arbor, Michigan

Robert Stafford was wearing thin the carpeted floor of the maternity ward waiting room as he paced frantically back and forth. After reading all the baby books his wife had forced upon him, Robert thought that he'd be at least somewhat ready for this day. In all honesty, he really had been…that is, until Michaela had gone into labor four hours ago.

He hastily wiped away a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. _Come on, Robbie, relax. They're going to be fine. That's what doctors are for, right? _He briefly considered the possibility of the doctor actually being conman. After all, he had used that disguise several times in the past and it always did work quite effectively._ No no no, think happier thoughts like…check forgery. Racketeering. The Lichtenstein._

"Mr. Stafford, sir?" He looked up to see a nurse poking her head out of his wife's room. "If you're ready to come in, I think your wife is pretty impatient to introduce you to the newest member of your family."

Robert's eyes widened and he dashed eagerly towards the delivery room, all traces of tension and anxiety gone. He burst into the room and saw his exhausted, but positively glowing, wife smiling down at a small bundle in her arms.

"Wuss," she teased, noticing him in the doorway. "It took you long enough to finally join us. Get over here and say hello to your daughter."

Robert blinked. _Did she just say daughter?_ He ran her words through his head again, certain that his ears had deceived him. But as he stood at his wife's side, as he stared at the wailing newborn swaddled in a pink blanket, Robert realized with a sinking heart that there had been no mistake.

He knew that he ought to be happy and thankful; his beautiful wife had just given him the gift of a child. Still, try as he might, he could not help but feel as if he had in fact lost something.

"You know, she kind of reminds me of your grandma," Robert joked, trying to mask his despondency. "Wrinkly. Barely any hair. Very whiny."

Michaela laughed, oblivious to his real thoughts. "Real funny, Robbie. Come on, put out your arms. You're going to hold her."

"No!"

Michaela stared at him in shock and confusion. "Excuse me?"

He gritted his teeth, mentally cursing himself for slipping up. "What I meant was, I don't think that it'd be a good idea right now." He fumbled desperately for some plausible excuse to placate his irate wife. "I'm still a little, err, woozy from that ordeal."

She pursed her lips. "Ordeal? Ha! You weren't even in here." Before he could protest any further, Michaela pulled him close and carefully deposited the little girl in his arms. "I don't know what's gotten into you, Robert," she said sternly. "But when I say you are going to hold our baby, you will hold our baby. Do I make myself clear?"

Robert didn't hear a word. The moment the squalling infant had been placed in his arms, fatherly instincts he didn't know he possessed kicked in and overrode his initial disappointment of not having a son. The babe, soothed by his gentle rocking and hushing, had quieted and opened her eyes to reveal a dazzling pair of baby blues.

_Like mother, like daughter_, he thought, glancing up to see Michaela watching them with a look of pure delight and satisfaction.

"Rachel Lisa Stafford," Robert murmured as he turned his attention to the little angel staring intently back at him. His heart swelled with love and pride that no perfectly executed heist of any amount of money could match. _My daughter_.

* * *

December 15, 1998

San Diego, California

Jack Burton ran through the house, cursing frantically under his breath. He'd just gotten a tip from an old acquaintance that the feds were onto him again. They would probably be here within a couple hours. He had to move fast, only pack bare necessities, and always be vigilant or else… His throat tightened and he tried to push away the painful memory of that night so many years ago. _Oh, Michaela_.

She had never known about the double life he led. After their first date, he'd gotten a real job and attempted to leave his old one behind. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, every so often he found himself going back. When his daughter was born, he was able to stop for a while. But the excitement, the joy, the "newness" quickly wore off and within a half a year, he was back in the game.

Simply put, it was his addiction. And with every addiction comes a price. Fool that he was, Jack thought he'd never have to pay up if he stayed on his toes. They moved frequently, which Michaela only put up with because he always chose places that she loved. But he hadn't been careful enough. He went too far on one of his schemes, played with the wrong people and they came looking for him.

He'd almost gotten his family out in time. Rachel had already been buckled into her car seat and he was locking the door of the house when he heard Michaela's quavering voice calling him. He remembered the terror etched upon her face, the icy fear that froze his bones when he saw his wife being held at gunpoint. He remembered her begging, pleading, trying to understand what was happening and the sudden, piercing _crack_ as the steel of her captor's gun smashed against her skull.

His head spun and bile rose in his throat. He had to put out a hand to steady himself. _Get it together, Jack._ He couldn't lose it here. Not now, not when he still had a daughter to protect. Swallowing hard, he ripped open a desk drawer and hastily popped out the false bottom. He rifled through the stash of fake IDs, muttering under his breath as he searched for the one wanted. _Dobson, Dobson, Dobson…ah, there you are._ He plucked several cards out of the stack and stuffed the rest into a briefcase.

The front door banged open. His hand flew to the gun tucked in his pants. They couldn't be here already, could they?

"Dad?"

Hearing his daughter's cheery voice, Jack let out a sigh of relief and quickly resumed his packing.

Jenny rushed into the room. "Dad, did you see the mail yet? I got into Harvard!"

"Yeah yeah," he replied distractedly as he glanced around the room to see if he'd missed anything important. "Pack up and get in the car, darlin'. We're going to Utah."

He moved towards the door, but Jenny stopped him and waved a piece of paper in his face. "Um, did you hear me? Harvard! You know, that school on the East Coast that's kind of really hard to get into?"

Jack paused and set his things down on the floor. _Make it quick. We don't have time._ "Honey, look. I'm proud of you. Really. But the feds are coming after us and we need to go now. I promise we'll get some rocky road ice cream in Utah to celebrate. As much as you want. But we have to leave now." He hugged her tightly. "So are you ready?"

Jenny didn't move, didn't make a sound. "Jenny, I…" He started to say when suddenly she tore herself free from his embrace and shoved him against the wall.

"Us?" she shrieked. "We? Dad, you're the one that's causing all this trouble! You and your stupid stupid cons. You always tell me that you're so proud of me. But do you love me? You promise so many things. Do you know what I really want? I want you stop scamming other people. I want you to just let me be normal! Do you love me enough to give me that?"

Jack took a tentative step towards his daughter. "Don't!" She took a deep shuddering breath. "Don't come near me. Don't talk to me. I don't ever want to see you again." She turned and fled the room.

"Wait! Where are –" The front door slammed shut.

For a moment, he stood, swaying slightly in shock. Then, leaning against the wall, he sank to the cold hardwood floor. He cursed the day he'd turned into a con man. Two perfect angels. He'd let them go, cast them away for the thrill of adventure, the love of money. Now he had nothing.

Minutes ticked by and still he sat, barely conscious of the world around him. When Michaela died, he'd been able to get by because of his daughter. But now that she was gone, who did he have to turn to? Perhaps it was for the best. She shouldn't have to put up with him.

Through the haze of his depression and self-loathing, he heard the front door swing open. _She came back already? Oh my God. _He scrambled hastily to his feet. _I have to apologize. I have to tell her I'm going to stop and we're going to start over and be a real family and –_

"Mr. Burton." He heard the unmistakable clicks of several guns being cocked and closed his eyes in defeat. Hands shoved him roughly against the wall and clapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. Someone was shouting out orders to frisk him for weapons. Another was reading him his rights.

The first voice, deep and gravelly, spoke again. "I see you're going to come quietly. Good for you, finally making smart choices. Ready to make one more before I send you off to a nice padded cell in D.C.? Tell me where your daughter is."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

_Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._ Jenny hurled her knives at the acceptance letter she'd tacked to the tree. There was no point in keeping it. In a few days she'd be in Utah living under a new name. She couldn't believe she had been stupid enough to apply. She should've known that it wouldn't pan out even if she got in. Con artists don't go to college unless they're impersonating someone.

Jenny heaved a breath, blowing sweaty bangs out of her eyes, and surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. Most of the paper had been reduced to bits of confetti during her cathartic throwing session. She glanced at her watch and sighed. _Time to head back._ As much as she hated her father at the moment, Jenny didn't want him to get arrested.

She noted with some relief as she jogged up the porch stairs that their yellow Volkswagen Golf was still in the driveway. She'd been half expecting him to try and find her so that he could get out of town faster. Pushing the door open, she called out, "Dad?" The house was eerily silent.

"Anyone home?" Still no answer. Was she too late? Had they gotten to him already? Quietly, she closed the door behind her and scanned the room, looking for signs of a struggle. Nothing. A floorboard in the hallway creaked and like a flash, she whipped a knife out of her ankle holster and sent it flying towards the sound. She dove for cover behind the couch and unsheathed another knife. Her heart pounded like a taiko drum as she gripped the handle tightly, the knuckles on her hand bone white.

The intruder chuckled and Jenny heard the scraping sound of her knife being pulled out of the wall. "Under any other circumstance, I think I'd have you arrested. But this…this is quite impressive, Jenny. Or do you prefer Katie? Maybe even Rebecca?"

Cautiously, she peeked out from her hiding place. To her surprise, a man wearing a crisp, dark suit was standing two feet away. He extended his arm, returning her knife to her. "Langston Graham, Director of the CIA. Your father has taught you well. How would you like to put your skills to use for the greater good and make a difference in the world?"

* * *

February 21, 2009

Meadow Branch

Moans of pleasure filled the small kitchen. "Oh my god, Sarah, I never knew you were this good," Chuck mumbled. "I mean, I know you can do anything, just look at you. But tell me, Ms. Walker, is this straight-up natural talent or did the CIA teach you a few tricks?"

"My father was a crook, not a cook," she replied briskly, sliding yet another pancake onto his plate. "Of course I learned it from the CIA. You never know when you might need to pose as a chef to slip a little extra something into someone's food."

"Ooo-kay, good to know. But what about those terrible, burnt corndogs you used to make at the Weinerlicious? Isn't that supposed to be really easy to do compared to this? I can't imagine the cooking process being any more difficult than dunk and fry."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "First of all, the food on the Weinerlicious menu shouldn't even be called food. And, OK, I'll admit it. I've been spending some time with Ellie brushing up on my culinary skills. She's really quite amazing in the kitchen, if you haven't noticed." She drizzled a generous amount of syrup onto the golden cake and finished it off with a light dusting of powdered sugar. "Alright. Eat up."

He stared at her as if she'd grown another head.

She stared back. "What?"

Slowly, his face split into a wide grin. "You're voluntarily hanging out with my sister? And of all the things you two could be doing, you choose to spend it cooking? Wow. Better watch out, Sarah, or else you just might turn into a real girl." He popped a piece of pancake into his mouth and chewed happily.

She smiled halfheartedly at him before quickly turning away under the pretext of feeding the dog. _A real girl._ Sarah Walker could be many things, but she knew that when it came to being real, being normal…neither had ever or would ever be a part of her skill set.

* * *

April 12, 2014

Casa Bartowski

They were in bed relaxing and watching television, just as they had been doing every Saturday morning for the past three years. Chuck was utterly captivated by the latest episode of _Doctor Who_. Sarah, nestled comfortably against her husband's chest, was not nearly as interested. Over the years, she had developed a rather high level of tolerance for Chuck's sci-fi obsession. She could watch it, read it, even discuss it with him to some extent, but she would never surrender herself completely to – as Casey called it – the dark side. On this particular day, however, it wasn't her lack of total geekiness that was keeping her from watching the show.

"Chuck?"

"Yea?"

She hesitated for a moment, her right hand playing nervously with a loose thread on the comforter. "Um. Nothing. Never mind."

"OK." Chuck's eyes were still glued to the TV.

A few minutes passed. "Chuck?"

"Uh-huh?"

"We're going to the Awesomes' tonight for dinner, OK?"

"Got it. Thanks for the heads up." He patted her hand absently.

Sarah bit her lip. It shouldn't be this hard to tell him, especially when she knew how happy he going to be. Happy was probably a gross understatement. She let out a short, frustrated huff.

Amazingly, Chuck heard her and immediately reached for the remote control to turn off the television. Turning onto his side, he wrapped her up in his arms and tenderly pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Are you OK, Sarah?"

She sighed. "Yeah. I'm fine. Great, actually."

Chuck laughed quietly. "You know, for someone who was once, and still is, the most respected and feared spy in the CIA, you don't lie very well. Not to me at least."

Sarah made no reply.

"Alright then. Are we going to have to play twenty questions?" He asked playfully.

Sarah snuggled closer to him. "No. I just…I don't know."

"Ah, well, we've got all morning!" He said cheerfully, propping himself up on one elbow. "Let's see, does it involve spies? Casey? Ellie? Devon? Morg –"

"I'm pregnant!" She blurted out suddenly.

Chuck cocked his head to the side. "I'm feeling the strangest combination of emotions. That was a strangely anticlimactic ending, but at the same time SO FREAKING AWESOME!"

She shrieked with surprise as he swooped her up into bone crushing hug. He released her almost immediately, however, and began apologizing profusely. "Oh gosh I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry. Are you OK? Is the baby OK?"

Sarah almost wanted to laugh at the absolutely terrified expression on his face. His never ending concern for her comfort and safety was adorable. "We're fine, Chuck." She assured him as she tucked an errant curl behind his ear. "I'm not that far along and I highly doubt that a little celebrating will hurt it."

"Hey, we can't be calling our baby 'It'. We have to think of names now!" He was positively bouncing up and down with excitement. "How about Rose? You know, the Doctor's Companion? Or Leia? Vera? Sarah, this is going to be so much fun!"

Sarah crinkled her nose. "Yeah, nice try but we're not naming our baby after some science fiction character…or a gun."

"OK, OK, I get it. The names are a little too out there for you. Let's see." His brows furrowed in deep concentration.

"Sweetie, we have plenty of time to think –"

"I got it!" Chuck snapped his fingers. "We can name her Sarah. That's a good name, right? It's normal sounding, it came from Terminator, and best of all, she'll be named after you." He put on his best puppy dog face. "Say yes to Sarah. Please?"

She sighed and flopped back onto her pillow. "Come on, Chuck. It's way too early to be thinking about names. How do you even know it's going to be a girl? I'm fairly certain that the ability to correctly guess the gender of your baby is not included in the Intersect."

"Well," he began slowly, choosing his words with care. "It's just like how when we were cover dating, I always knew that you were going to be a permanent fixture in my life. I didn't know what the nature of our relationship would be since everything was so complicated, but I never stopped hoping that one day you'd be something more than just my handler. And look at us now," His lips curled into a soft smile and he gazed at her in adoration.

"I'm married to the girl of my dreams, Sarah. My life is awesome and there isn't the slightest speck of doubt in my mind that it's about to get even better. Before the year is up, I'm going to be the father of a beautiful, perfect girl just like you because if you think about it, all the odds are stacked against us having a boy. First off, your kickass genes probably destroyed mine, so our little baby is going to be all you. Second, all the kids on your side are girls."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Chuck, I'm an only child."

He waved off her comment. "Don't worry about such trivial details, dearest. The point is you're the only girl. Surely that must count for something. Moving on to the Bartowski side of our little family. Ellie was born first. Add another point for Team Sarah. And last but not least, who can forget my pathetic girlish screams of terror?" Chuck smiled. "Do I have you convinced yet?"

She gazed up into her husband's sparkling brown eyes. In this amazing man, she had found so much. A never ending stream of corny jokes and Star Wars quotes. A shining beacon of love that guided her heart out of the dark world of espionage and into one of truth and normalcy. He was going to make a fantastic father. Sarah could only hope that she would be half as good as a mother.

Threading her hand through his soft hair, she pulled his face down to her own for a lengthy, soul-searing kiss. When at last she released him, he fell back on the bed beside her, panting breathlessly. "I take that as a very exuberant yes."

"Mmm, just don't name her Sarah," she replied, clicking the TV back on.

"Roger that," said Chuck as he settled himself comfortably against the pillows and wrapped his arms around her torso protectively.

They sat in silence enjoying the remainder of the episode and simply basking in each other's presence. When the credits rolled across the screen, Chuck finally broke the quiet.

"What about Jill?"

* * *

That's all for now folks! Thanks for reading! Now, see that button down there with the green letters? OK, imagine it's Casey and he's saying "I'm the button." Come on, give Sugar Bear a poke. You know you want to.


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